


It's A Magical Place

by Miss_Aphi



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ace!Darcy Lewis, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal, Asexual Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America - Freeform, Cross Dimensional, Disneyland, Dreams and Nightmares, Dreamsharing, Fluff, Geeks in Love, Love at First Sight, Love on vacation, M/M, Marvel Comics - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Resolved Sexual Tension, Skinny!Steve, Smut, Stucky - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, The Winter Soldier has a conscience, Tumblr Gift, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vague torture, Whirlwind Romance, alternative universe, beefy!Steve, comic books, fic request, period-typical racism (only mentioned once in Bucky's head)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:35:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Aphi/pseuds/Miss_Aphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They had brought the comic version of his namesake back to life, resuscitating him from the atrocious fate of an off-page death.  And they made him a complete bad ass.  Sure, totally flawed, and broken in the head, but the Winter Soldier was perfectly imperfect and Bucky adored him.  As soon as Bucky had turned 18, he’d gone to a tattoo parlour to begin turning his left arm into a sleeve to mimic the Winter Soldier’s, red star and all.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Even in our reality, two men named Bucky and Steve belong together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter: The Winter Soldier

~ =★= ~

For as long as Bucky could remember, he had loved Captain America.  The obsession had started when he was only eight years old and devouring every book in the house that didn’t have something filthy in it.  It was comic books that got him to slow down, reading every word like it was sacred and devouring every mark within every panel.

The first one had been his father’s _Captain America #1_ from back in the forties, with Cap punching Ol’ Adolf on the jaw on the cover.

 

_45 thrilling pages of **Captain America**!  Also, Captain America's young ally, **Bucky**!_

 

God, he had lived vicariously through those comic books.  His parents had claimed he’d been named for the president, but his dad had only given him a small smile and a wink when Bucky had asked if the names _James Buchanan_ were actually because of Cap’s best guy, and not the _worst_ President in the history of the United States.  What Ma didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

 

_Yes, dear, we’re very patriotic.  How about James Buchanan?  He was a **great** president, **and** a lawyer!_

 

Bucky would take the little jerk in blue tights with a foul mouth over _that_ any day of the week, thank you very much.  His heart had broken with Bucky’s death, but not because he was gone.  Because it was _awful_.  Not even written in?!  Just a death that appeared to happen between pages?!  FUCK THAT!

Still, even with that whole buncha bullshit right there, Bucky’s obsession with Captain America only continued as he got older and continued on with the series, taking the same concentrated joy in each glossy page when a new issue came out.  And then, in 2005, Ed Brubaker and Steve Epting happened.  He got the first issue of Volume 5 in the mail.  The cover was _gorgeous_.  Dark, visceral, messy.  Even Cap, in his red-white-and-blue looked fierce as hell.

 

_Enter: The Winter Soldier._

 

Between Cap’s earlier dreams about remembering his little pal Bucky Barnes, and the appearance of the ferocious, metal-armed assassin, who was unnamed in the first issue, something twisted in Bucky’s gut.  Dark, visceral, messy.  **Raw**.  As the series continued, Bucky decided he was going to marry the hell out of Brubaker and/or Epting.  Or at least suck their dicks.

They had brought the comic version of his namesake back to life, resuscitating him from the atrocious fate of an off-page death.  And they made him a _complete_ bad ass.  Sure, totally flawed, and broken in the head, but the Winter Soldier was perfectly imperfect and Bucky adored him.  As soon as Bucky had turned 18, he’d gone to a tattoo parlour to begin turning his left arm into a sleeve to mimic the Winter Soldier’s, red star and all.

He had a best friend through all this – _this_ being his fanboy tears and _oh my god, Darce, have you read the latest issue yet?_ _I need someone to feels with_ – who smiled and talked with him about everything comic book related.  Darcy Lewis worked in the local comic book shop around the corner from his place in Brooklyn.  He’d been going there for years.  A _girl_ working at a comic book shop, and she could talk shop with him about it all.  He wouldn’t deny that he’d crushed hard on her for a little while until it became apparent that she wasn’t interested in anything beyond friendship with him.  And that was okay, because by that point, Darcy was awesome in his book.

Bucky’s world was turned on its ear again in 2012 when he read on his Facebook that Disney had bought Marvel.

 

 _Holy.  Shit_.

~ =★= ~


	2. Shut Your Stupid Face, Lewis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Bucky was starting to feel his nerves getting the better of him, like he was getting ready for a blind date. Which was a **ridiculous** notion to begin with. He just wanted to get his picture with the cast member playing Captain America with his tattoo on full display and that was it. **Right?** Of course right. Sensing his nerves, Darcy tucked herself closer into his side and gave his elbow another squeeze._
> 
> _“You’re gonna make yourself sweaty an’ gross if you keep it up,” she chastised softly, but bit back on the comment about insulting Captain America with his stink. Bucky was anxious enough, which in retrospect, was fucking adorable to her._

~ =★= ~

It had taken some doing, but Bucky had _finally_ managed to convince Darcy to take a vacation with him to California.

 

_Oh yeah, Darce!  We can go see everythin’! Wine country, the Hollywood sign, the Chinese theatre._

_  
Hey, you wanna go to Disneyland, too?  Sounds like a lotta fun._

_  
What?  No!  I’m not goin’ ‘cause there’s a Captain America there.  Shut your stupid face, Lewis._

 

Darcy could read him like a graphic novel.  It was what had brought them to Disneyland Park on their first of five days here.  They had both saved every penny from their jobs – her, still at the comic book shop, and he from manning the grill at a diner.  He knew full well that Darcy was coming along so he didn’t stalk the cast members that were dressed as Avengers characters.  No, Bucky’s fanboying did not go so far, but there was going to be a real problem if the guy playing Cap was attractive.

“How are people even supposed to know it’s here?”  Darcy complained as they strolled through Tomorrowland towards the Innoventions pavilion, which seemed far more makeshift than it had any right to be.  They should have their own area, damn it!  Bucky sighed as he looked down to Darcy, looking gorgeous as always.  She’d gone out to get herself a couple of sundresses for the hot, California weather, and was rocking a dark red one now along with her flip-flops and an umbrella to keep her skin from burning under the sun.

“I looked online for it, but you’re right, it ain’t on the map,” Bucky confessed, flicking the back of his fingers on the glossy map he was holding.  Like the dork he was, he’d drawn a little five-point star where the information online had told him to find Cap.  The concentric circles around the star appeared out of nowhere.  Like magic.  A mouse-wizard in a pointy hat put them there.  Honest!

His ink-covered left fingers pushed through his hair, easing some of the rebellious strands back towards the bun at the nape of his neck.  It was a futile effort as the soon fell back into place.  He’d worn a black tank top under a short-sleeved black bowling shirt, both to keep cool and be able to shrug it off for the picture he was definitely taking with Captain America once they found him.  It would be one of the first pictures on his social media accounts exposing the whole thing as a completed piece, after hours and hours in a chair, letting the tattooist work his skin over until he bled and couldn’t take anymore.

“Quit fussin’.  I’m sure Cap’s gonna fall in love with your jerk face the second he sees you, and you’ll abandon me here to run off and make geeky babies in the nearest bathroom,” his best friend teased as she looped her arm through Bucky’s.  He scoffed, thwacking her fingers at his elbow with the folded map.  She chuckled and wiggled her fingers against his forearm.

“The bathroom, Darce?  I’m a jerk, but I got _some_ class, doll.  S’gonna _at least_ be a closet somewhere,” Bucky smirked.  Darcy’s eyes were practically glowing with mischief as she looked up to him.

“I thought you were _outta_ the closet.  Why would you wanna go back _in_?”  Bucky groaned at her, giving her another smack with the map.  She cackled in response, but gave his arm an affectionate squeeze once they’d settled back into their companionable stroll.

Bucky was starting to feel his nerves getting the better of him, like he was getting ready for a blind date.  Which was a _ridiculous_ notion to begin with.  He just wanted to get his picture with the cast member playing Captain America with his tattoo on full display and that was it.  _Right?_ Of course right.Sensing his nerves, Darcy tucked herself closer into his side and gave his elbow another squeeze.

“You’re gonna make yourself sweaty an’ gross if you keep it up,” she chastised softly, but bit back on the comment about insulting Captain America with his stink.  Bucky was anxious enough, which in retrospect, was fucking adorable to her.

“I don’t know why m’so damned nervous, Darce.  Jesus Christ, we already met the Princesses at breakfast and that was nothin’,” Bucky mumbled.   She merely pat his arm and stayed cuddled up to his side.  When the pavilion came into view, Bucky started to grind his teeth anxiously.  He just wanted the picture to look good, right?  Of course right.

The line up in the pavilion was relatively small, but he supposed that was always the case given that the meet and greet was not marked in the map and there was no real signage indicating that park guests could meet Captain America and Thor.   It was mostly kids and their parents, which again, he supposed, was par for the course.

The queue took them to Thor first, who was standing in front of the Avengers symbol that was secured to the wall behind him.  The guy playing Thor was… well, fuckin’ hell, he was stacked.  The costume added some bulk, sure, but that was simply the design of it, not because he was a scrawny dude.  That was all man under there.  Bucky was pretty sure that was his hair too, braided and wrapped with some leather cording, though he had on the winged helmet to hide most of it.

“Look at you, all muscley an’ stuff.   How are you even real?”  Darcy said, grinning. Thor smirked, twisting his hammer lightly to make a show of his corded muscles moving beneath the costume.

“I am a god, feel for yourself,” he replied, his voice deep and bassy.  Darcy, ever happy to fondle biceps, reached out to squeeze both of his in her hands.  She made a humming noise and threw a look over her shoulder at Bucky.

“Buuucky, look.  _Deltoids_ ,” she purred, giving said shoulders a little squeeze.  Thor chuckled and seemed quite content to let her fondle the hell out of him until she needed to move along.  Bucky shook his head and pulled out his phone to snap a picture of his best friend getting her fill of physical intimacy for the year by groping at a dude dressed up like a Norse god.  She turned and grinned, curling herself around one of Thor’s arms for another picture.   Once Darcy broke away, she poked at his chest, smirking.

“Thanks, tiger,” Darcy cooed before all but skipping over to loop arms with Bucky, tugging him back into the line for the Captain.

“You’re incorrigible, doll,” Bucky scolded teasingly, as he gave her fingers a little squeeze with his elbow.  She smiled brightly, nose crinkling slightly with delight.

“Says the one who came here for the express purpose of slobberin’ all over a dude in a Cap costume,” Darcy sassed, even as she settled her cheek on his upper arm.  Bucky shrugged and ducked his head to kiss the top of hers.  “His muscles probably aren’t even _real_ , Buck.  S’probably just some skinny dude with squishy padding,” she continued, and Bucky _knew_ she was just saying it to get a rise out of him.  He sighed and leaned over to peek down the line at the guy in the Captain America costume.

He was on one knee next to a young girl, shield strapped to one arm and the other curled around the back of the kid.  He had broad as hell shoulders and a teeny-tiny waist that Bucky suddenly wanted nothing more but to dig his fingers into.  But it was hard to tell how much was structure and how much was padding, even as the fella stood up to take a picture with the little girl, he found, was dressed in an approximation of one of the USO showgirls.  Her dress was all sparkles and her hair was in a modernized version of victory curls.

“He’s got a nice ass,” Darcy mused, head tilting to the side as she openly ogled, but Bucky didn’t hear her.  His heart was racing a mile a minute as the little girl hugged Cap’s leg and giggled.  Kids were not something Bucky had ever really thought about.  Given his sexual leanings, up until recently, he figured it was just something that wasn’t in Fate’s cards for him, so he hadn’t dwelled on it.

He was pulled from his thoughts by Darcy tugging his arm to get them to catch up in the line.  It was only another five minutes or so before Bucky was next, even though it felt like a god damn eternity.  Ice ages finished faster than this.  He was distantly aware of Darcy drawing little figure eights with her finger on the inside of his forearm, something she’d always done when he was starting to visibly stress out.  It helped, even if he wasn’t acutely aware of it.

Finally at the front of the line, Bucky felt the world seize up around him.  The cast member looked to him with a bright smile beneath his cowl.  His eyes were lively, shiny and blue, but assessing.  And there was no damned way any of the muscles under his costume were padding.  Cap’s gaze ticked down to the tattoo that as on full display on Bucky’s arm, before drifting back up.  The smile slowly curved into something more like a mischievous smirk.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the Winter Soldier,” Cap prompted, shifting his weight to move the shield in front of him.  His voice was music to Bucky’s ears, all rumbly and low, but with that same hint  of mischief that his smile betrayed laced into it.  Everything zipped back into focus around Bucky and he gave a hoarse laugh, and he stumbled slightly when Darcy gave him a little push.  He was damned sure he was blushing, and he could only hope it could be blamed on the warmth of southern California.  All the same, he fell into the role of a placating Sergeant Barnes, holding up his hands in a surrendering motion.

“Cap.  Just thought I’d come an’ see how my punk’s doin’,” Bucky chanced which made Cap laugh, dropping his shield to his side.

“C’mere, then, jerk,” he replied easily, holding out his free arm to his side.  Bucky grinned and stepped into the half-embrace.  Cap set his shield back up as Bucky flexed his inked arm up, as the other arm settled loose around Cap’s waist.  Nope.  Definitely all muscle.  Bucky felt fluttering in his chest and his stomach was doing  tiny flips as Darcy fumbled (on purpose) with her phone to make the embrace last longer.  He scowled lightly at her, but she only smiled cheerfully and took the picture that Bucky had come all the way here for.

“Thanks, man,” Bucky said as he withdrew.  Cap nodded and gave his shoulder a light squeeze before leaning in close.

“Love your ink, pal,” he whispered, before letting go all the way.  Darcy waved at Cap and tugged Bucky out of the way for the next people in line.  He was pretty sure he was floating as he was led away.

“M’in love, Darce.  Jesus Christ,” he murmured, which prompted her to laugh softly.

“Sure you are, jerk.  C’mon, I smell turkey legs.  Mama’s _hungry_.”

~ =★= ~


	3. You'll Never Know How Many Dreams I Dreamed About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It has been said in the past that dreams are of past life experiences intruding on present day life. It has also been said in the past that the earth is flat and one may fall into oblivion should they reach the end of it. Let me say it now, and say it clearly. Dreams are far more than that of the subconscious mind reviewing information gathered throughout the day, or these past life experiences._
> 
> Darcy and Bucky spend their next day in Disneyland. After a night filled with explicit, confusing, and disturbing dreams of Captain America and his namesake, Bucky can't help but check in on his favourite cast member...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title stolen from _[It's Been A Long, Long Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJFf29jUnrs)_ by Harry James, which is the song playing in Captain America: The Winter Soldier during the scene where Fury is shot in Steve's apartment.
> 
> Dream information at the bottom of the story. :D

~ =★= ~

Manhattan, New York – September 23rd, 2015  
**Excerpt from the Logbook of Dr. Stephen Strange, M.D.**

It has been said in the past that dreams are of past life experiences intruding on present day life. It has also been said in the past that the earth is flat and one may fall into oblivion should they reach the end of it.  Let me say it now, and say it clearly. Dreams are far more than that of the subconscious mind reviewing information gathered throughout the day, or these past life experiences.

As I have established time and again in past research, our reality (which I have dubbed as Earth-19999) is not the only universe in existence. There are an immeasurable amount of parallel dimensions where the genetic carbon copies of ourselves exist. 

_(Ed. Note: Have yet to determine how alternative universes are affected by realms such as Asgard. Will have to discuss with Odinson whether copies exist of all nine realms, or simply of Midgard.)_

Through circumstance and the scientific equivalent of the variables that come from 'the right place at the right time', these dimensions are as similar to Earth-19999, as they are dissimilar. Familiar faces abound, but they are merely facsimiles. At the core, they are the same, but insurmountably different in histories and life paths.

Dreams, as my original statement suggested, are far more than past lives. They are windows through the eyes of our alternative universe doppelgängers.  It may leave a person waking to feel as though the dream were real, or be affected on an emotional level by the experiences their other had while they slept.

~ =☆= ~

DUMBO, Brooklyn – May 7th, 1927

_The skinny, blonde punk hit the dirt hard, his lip bleeding and his elbows skinned from the impact.  The two larger boys cackled on and made a grab for the punk’s suspenders to haul him back to his feet.  He fought them tooth and nail, his bony fists snapping out and causing blood to spurt from the left bully’s nose.  He shouted in pain and cupped his face, while his buddy picked up the punk and then threw him into a wall._

_“Just stay down, kid,” the bully grunted, and much to his surprise, the skinny kid got back up and fisted his dukes.  Shaking his head, Bucky finally made his move.  The garbage can lid flew through the air and hit the fella square in the face.  With all of his ten year old height and swagger – which wasn’t much – Bucky bolstered himself up and stepped closer, glaring menacingly at the bullies._

_“G’on! Scram ‘fore I put ya lights out!” Bucky bellowed, picking up another trash lid and curling it under his arm in preparation to fling it at them again.  The bullies shouted at each other and ran out of the slender alley between two apartment buildings.  Dropping the trashcan lid with a clatter, he moved to the punk and offered a hand down to help him up.  Despite having his ass served to him, the blonde wasn’t bawling or nothing.  He just took Bucky’s hand and got to his feet, wiping his lip on the back of his free hand._

_“I had ‘em on the ropes, jerk,” the punk said dryly.  A faint smirk quirked up on Bucky’s lips._

_“Sure ya did, punk…” he said as he held out his hand again, this time in greeting rather than to aid. "Name's James Buchanan Barnes," he announced, which caused the blonde to arch an eyebrow at him. All the same, bony fingers slid into the other boy's and he shook firmly._

_"Steve Rogers.  S'quite the mouthful of a name," he drawled, a smirk pulling across his split lip._

_"Call me Bucky, then, if you're so worried 'bout not bein' able t'pronounce it proper."_

~ =☆= ~

DUMBO, Brooklyn – July 4th, 1936

_“Happy birthday, Stevie!” Bucky said cheerfully as he set down a teeny-tiny cake on the teeny-tiny kitchen table.  He was careful not to place the little box from the Damascus Bakery on any of Steve’s sketches or the little pile of bills that Mrs. Rogers had carefully organized on her side of the table.  Bucky had let himself into the Rogers apartment, as usual, and had made himself at home on the third chair at the little table._

_“Bucky,” Steve scolded, in that soft, breathy way that he spoke when the heat and his allergies were kicking up.  It explained the smell of the herby asthma cigarettes in the air, and why Steve had one pursed between his lips, sucking on it for all he was worth.  Bucky did his damnedest not to focus on the way his pink lips wrapped around the filter.  “Shouldn’t’a done that, jerk.  S’just another day,” Steve said, indicating the little box with a tap of his pencil.  Pulling out of his headspace, Bucky threw him a crooked grin and shrugged._

_“You’re my best guy, punk.  Course m’gonna gitcha a li’l somethin’.  An’ **li’l**  is definitely the keyword,” Bucky mused, biting off a comment about not knowing cake was so damned expensive.  Steve already hated making a big deal out of his birthday, and if he found out that Bucky had spent some of the money he’d been saving to get an apartment on his own on something so frivolous, he’d be furious.  Never let it be said that someone who was barely 80 pounds, while soaking wet with rocks in his pockets, wasn’t incredibly terrifying when he was pissed._

_The small smile that pulled at Steve’s mouth was all worth it to Bucky.  The blonde set his pencil and sketchpad down and reached for the box.  He undid the string with care, likely to save it for something else, and popped the box open.  Inside was not but a sliver of vanilla cake with chocolate icing, barely enough for one person to have more than a taste on their tongue.  Steve took his time in opening the box the rest of the way before swiping a little rosette of icing up with his index finger._

_“Holy smokes, Buck, y'didn’t hafta do this.  M’gonna eat this whole thing,” Steve murmured, before grinning and holding out the rosette on his finger to Bucky.  Bucky’s throat went a little dry and he swallowed as he eyed the icing on Steve’s nimble digit.  He could have done it the right way, and took it off of Steve with his own finger._

_But they’d been dancing around each other for months.  Months of furtive glances that stemmed from Bucky teaching Stevie how to dance.  They’d had a bit to drink, to loosen the stick that was up Steve’s backside so the punk would actually **sway**  instead of waddle.  It helped, and Steve had become pliant in Bucky’s arms as he took him through the steps and taught him how to lead a dame around the floor.  It… hadn’t worked out that way.  He’d ended up holding Steve closer than he should have when a slower tune came on, lightly tracing his crooked spine.  And then Steve had looked up at him, lips parted, pupils blown wide until all he could see were tiny rims of baby blue around them.  And god, he’d wanted to kiss the hell out of his best friend in that moment.  He’d only been saved by an embarrassingly drunken moment because Mrs. Rogers had come home._

_Bucky hadn’t had a nip off a bottle in over two days.  Yet, the feelings were still there; a warm, worrying bundle of nerves in his stomach that snaked up to his chest as his eyes flicked up to Steve.  And Steve, the little shit, had plastered that mischievous smirk on his mouth, arched his brow, and tilted his head to the side.  It was an expression that had **challenge**  written all over it.  On top of that, though, Bucky could barely make out the baby blues but for little circlets around blackened pupils.  The air between them seemed heavy and charged suddenly, more so than it ever had, even while they’d been dancing._

_His rough hand moved up to hang onto Steve’s, keeping it steady as he drew it forward.  Steve’s breath hitched as he leaned a bit out of his chair, his other hand flattening on the table to keep him steady.  For his part, Bucky assessed, watched to ensure Steve was game as he leaned his head down.  While he watched, he let his pink tongue slip out to drag over the icing, gathering just a bit of the sugary cream on his tongue.  Steve sucked in a breath and seemed to hold it behind the way his top teeth bit down on his bottom lip.  His cheeks were as red as the tips of his ears, and his eyes were focused intently on the curve of Bucky’s mouth._

_“S’good,” Bucky murmured, before opening his mouth and bringing Steve’s finger into it.  He sucked softly, tongue slipping in slow, lazy circles around the tip.  Never let it be said that Steve wasn’t a quick little fucker.  He yanked his finger free of Bucky’s mouth and was on him a split-second later, nearly tipping Bucky’s chair back with the force he’d taken in climbing into his best friend’s lap.  The kiss was feverish and sloppy, all tongue, teeth, and desperation. He barely managed to get his feet flat on the ground before his hands found Steve. Fingers tangled through his short blonde hair, while the other found the pointed wing of his hip to squeeze at.  Steve's hands were everywhere, indecisive on where to touch. They carded through Bucky's hair, mussing up the slick job, before squeezing at his shoulders and then pressing his blunt nails into the back of his neck._

_"Buck... God, what the hell...?" Steve babbled, breathlessly, once he broke the kiss. The scrawny punk wasn't finished though, as his lips were soon working along Bucky's collar while his nimble fingers flicked open his shirt. Bucky laughed in a low chuffing noise that betrayed his amusement._

_"Happy birthday...?" He chanced, as that lazy, crooked smile split across his face again. Steve rolled his eyes and kissed it right off, while squirming into his lap. It didn't take Bucky too long to realize that there was purpose behind the movements. Latching onto his hips, he guided Steve into a few lower body rolls that stimulated them both through their trousers.  "Guess we ain't goin' t'Coney for your fireworks, huh?"_

_"Shut ya trap, Barnes," Steve instructed, then thought better about it and kissed him instead. God knew the brunette could talk a town gossip's ear off if given the chance, while dancing circles around them. He broke off again to bite down Bucky's throat, not leaving a mark until he reached his collarbone. He sucked in a small bruise over the bone, satisfied entirely by the way his best friend squirmed and sighed beneath him. They were both hard in their britches, and Steve took great delight in pressing them together there. It offered some relief through friction, but not a whole lot._

_"Ya got any idea how long I been wait in' for you t'pull ya head outta ya ass, jerk?" Steve chastised as he shoved off Bucky's jacket and wrapped his slender fingers around his blue suspenders. The dig of Steve's knuckles against his ribcage made him ache, and Bucky found his own fingers giving one of Steve's plain brown ones a small snap against his shoulder._

_"You were drunk.  Couldn't have ya drunk **and**  debauched for when your Ma came home," Bucky countered softly, willfully ignoring that that evening had been months ago and neither of them had made a move since. Part of Bucky had hoped is best friend had forgotten the way Bucky had leaned down a little before practically throwing himself away from Steve like he'd caught fire when Sarah's key turned in the lock. Steve gave him an irritated sigh as he palmed both cheeks and have Bucky's head a light shake._

_"Well, m'completely sober t'day, an' Ma ain't home 'til the mornin'," Steve was nearly purring, his hips giving another experimental roll into Bucky's lap. Barnes sighed and tipped his head back, a shallow moan slipping free of his mouth in the process. Bucky's mind went wild with the implications, and he couldn't stop the wanton grind of his pelvis against Steve's if he tried._

_"Take me to bed, Buck," Steve hummed, as if Bucky needed anymore coaxing to go along with whatever Steve had planned. Gathering his knobby limbs in close, Bucky rose to his feet steadily and made for Steve's bedroom. Of course, the punk took great pleasure in distracting him, by squeezing his legs around Bucky's waist, nibbling his ear, or pulling his head up into a kiss that ended up with Steve pinned into the wall outside of his room for a minute or two._

_Steve absolutely had control. He held Bucky's face, tipped how he wanted, and was flicking his tongue in and out of his mouth slowly. The agile muscle twisted and traced along Bucky's, rolling against the tip before withdrawing and making Bucky whine softly for more. He stumbled the rest of the way into Steve's room, managing to kick the door shut with his heel and not fall over in the process. Once he felt the bed at his knees, all bets are off.  Bucky tumbled forward onto the bed, barely managing to catch his weight on his elbows and his knees to keep from crushing his best guy._

_It felt like a dream as Steve’s hand peeled down his suspenders and shoved his shirt down his shoulders until they caught on his wrists.  He laughed roughly, couldn’t help himself.  Bucky managed to flick open the buttons at his cuffs and shrugged the shirt the rest of the way off.  He shucked off his undershirt and divested Steve of his despite a small noise of protest.  Leaning down, he slid his tongue across the protruding collarbone, grinning as Steve’s breath hitched and his back bowed._

_“Buck… don’t play, jerk.  Waited too long for this,” Steve groused, impatiently.  Bucky tipped his head up, nosing against Steve’s jaw._

_“Well, m’all for some pointers.  Ain’t exactly been with a fella,” Bucky replied, arching an eyebrow at his friend.  Despite how confident he was, Steve’s cheeks were dusted pink and it was slowly slipping down his slender chest._

_“You knew?”  Steve finally whispered, and Bucky gave him a faint smile._

_“Hard not t’smell the cologne that wasn’t yours on ya when ya came by,” he admitted.  It had driven Bucky crazy with jealousy that Steve came home smelling like another man… but it was hypocritical as hell, since Bucky often came around smelling like dames with their cherry red lipstick still lingering on his lips.  But he came home to Steve, and Steve came home to him, and he supposed that was the most important part.  Steve flushed a little more and cupped Bucky’s face._

_“Just like a dame, but y’need the slick from the bedside table,” he instructed.  Bucky grinned and let Steve guide him back into a kiss.  His hands were determined this time, confident and sure, as he tugged off the rest of Steve’s clothes until all that pale skin was naked underneath his body._

_“Pretty as a picture, Stevie,” he cooed, his wide hands spreading out across the other’s ribcage, practically able to touch his thumbs together while his fingertips nearly touched the bed beneath him.  Those thumbs swept up to flick his nails over the soft nipples on his chest, coaxing them up into pebbles  Steve squirmed beneath him, letting out a raspy breath.  He let his eyes wander greedily over the other man’s frame, taking in the sharp points of his hip bones that were itching for finger marks, the slender legs that he desperately wanted wrapped around his waist, the cock that stood at attention and leaked its wetness against Bucky’s belly.  He really was pretty as a damned picture._

_“Hurry up, Buck, god…” he huffed, exasperated as always when there was a delay in getting something he wanted.  Steve’s determined hands were working Bucky’s trousers open, though they trembled with excitement and nervous energy. Shoving Bucky’s trousers down to where his knees were pressed into the bed, Steve hummed at the sight of his best friend’s dick, curved slightly and already tipped red with desire.  It was Bucky’s turn to blush, but it didn’t deter him from tugging the tin of Vaseline out from the bedside drawer.  He’d wanted – he’d **yearned** – for Steve for too damned long to let the butterflies in his stomach deter him._

_Bucky dipped two of his fingers into the slick and worked it over them both with his thumb.  Steve’s eyes were wide, lips parted as he focused on keeping his breathing steady.  He was watching Bucky, however.  Whether it was a conscious move or not, he set his feet flat on the bed and spread his thighs.  The first touch of his thick fingers against Steve’s fluttering hole made him Steve gasp, and he briefly panicked about this.  A myriad of concerns went through him.  What if he hurt him?  What if there was shit everywhere?  No, Steve… Steve knew what he was doing.  It would be okay._

_Biting his lip to keep himself focused, Bucky carefully began to move his middle finger inward, relying on the slick to get him down to the second knuckle.  Steve’s moan was breathy, but rather than strained, it was utterly relaxed.  It said ‘finally’ without saying it at all._

_"C'mon, Buck. Give it to me, I can take it," Steve urged. A glance up to Steve's hungry expression assured Bucky that was the case. He was flushed and gorgeous, an absolute vision in the bed. His slender hands were fluttering around on the bed, lost between gripping the sheets and pressing knuckles into his mouth to bite around in order to muffle his moans. They were beautiful noises, and they were what coaxed Bucky to work another finger inside.  The squeeze was tighter and Steve's eyes fluttered shut. Bucky waited until Steve started to squirm down onto his fingers, his hips moving in aborted half-circles and jerks, before he began to shift his fingers around inside._

_He took note of the things that made Steve's brow pinch, and the ones that made him bite his knuckles. There was a particular spot that made Steve keen in the most delicious way and Bucky stroked his fingers in little circles over it until Steve was writhing._

_"Bucky!" Steve whined desperately, hands finally moving to grab at Bucky and try to coax him up. His arms were trembling and there was the lightest sheen of sweat on his brow. It was his eyes that sent Bucky for a spin. They were half-lidded and wild, the baby blue practically luminous in the dim bedroom. "M'ready, I swear, c'mon Barnes," Steve insisted, hands pawing at Bucky's shoulders, his arms, anywhere he could reach. Bucky hummed and seemed unsure, but the kiss Steve planted on him a moment later managed to make him comply._

_Bucky's hands were shaking as he slicked up his cock, probably much more than was actually needed. Steve was squirming before he caught on to his best guy's anxiety. Sitting up, his hands caught Bucky's wrists, thumbs rubbing in slow circles around the pulse points._

_"Hey..." He murmured, ducking his head to catch Bucky's eye. Once he did, he shifted up to kiss him softly, coaxing him out of whatever worried headspace he'd gotten himself into.  It was all it took to get Bucky moving again.  He leaned over the smaller man, easing him back down into the bed.  Lean thighs and calves tangled around his waist, and he found himself rutting against Steve, shivering at the strange but pleasant sensation of their cocks sliding together.  Bucky gasped as a hand curled around his dick and guided it where it was needed most._

_“Please, Buck… please…” Steve groaned, hips rolling upwards to get the right angle.  The brunette shivered and covered Steve’s mouth with his own, swallowing his moan as Bucky’s hips shifted forward to start feeding his shaft into the other.  It was hot and slick, and tight, so fucking tight.  Bucky pressed his mouth harder against Steve’s, but wasn’t actively kissing him, just holding their mouths together to share breath and muffle the noises that were coming out of them.  It was reckless and dangerous what they were doing.  The way Steve danced beneath him, however, made all those worries and concerns drift away with the next moan that rumbled up from his throat._

_Steve’s nimble fingers dug into Bucky’s ass, forcing him to sink in the rest of the way until his pelvis was tucked flush against the other’s ass.  His own fingers clenched into the sheets as Steve’s head fell back into the bed with a hiss.  He looked positively debauched already; lips red and swollen, expression twisted into something between serene and desperate, and the full-body blush making him actually warm beneath the touch as opposed to slightly chilled.  Moreover, Bucky knew he must have looked the same.  It felt like he was finally where he had needed to be all his life._

_Then he moved, and his whole worldview shifted on its axis.  He had no idea if it was just because it was his Stevie wrapped around him, or if this is how it would have been with any fella, but Bucky was willing to wager all of the money stowed away in his underwear drawer that it was because it was Steve.  The first thrust was tentative, a slow drag in and out, followed by another.  The noises Steve made were the sweetest melodies that Bucky had ever heard.  Steve’s body rolled with each movement, his hips curling and uncurling to get Bucky in him as deep as possible, before chasing after him to keep him inside.  Bucky had to see, had to watch, so he leaned back on his knees.  His fingers curled around Steve’s narrow hips to hold him steady, and his gaze dropped to where they were joined._

_“Holy shit,” Bucky groaned as he bit down hard on his lip to keep from going off too soon.  Steve let out a weak laugh that made his insides tremble, and brought a moan from both of them.  “So beautiful, baby, god, m’sorry I took so long,” he murmured as he fell into a faster rhythm.  He only got a hum in response from his best guy.  The sound of their flesh colliding was a delicious underscore to the noises he was pulling out of Steve each time he sank into his hole.  Steve’s nails scored down his arms, but he barely felt it.  The sting was lost beneath endorphins and adrenaline._

_Steve ran a hand down his own torso.  A low noise of need caught in his throat once his fingers curled around his cock.  It only took him a few strokes before he was fucking into his fist at the same pace that Bucky’s hips were snapping into his ass.  Enthralled by this, Bucky set about increasing his tempo, colliding with Steve.  There was urgency in their actions now, as heat pooled at the small of his back and his groin began to tighten and clench.  He forced his eyes up from where he’d been watching to look at Steve’s face.  Steve was staring at him from beneath his eyelashes, lips parted and heat in his cheeks.  Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.  He’d never had anyone look at him like that before._

_Surging forward, his mouth covered Steve’s, tongue sweeping into his mouth to taste him, to take possession of it so no one else could have it.  All the while, he continued to fuck his best guy into his mattress.  Steve whined under his lips, his hips suddenly bucking up and holding still.  Bucky felt ropes of heat splatter against his belly, but it was the sudden clench around his dick that got his attention.  He sucked in a breath and held it as he chased his own pleasure._

_“C’mon… c’mon, Bucky, god, wanna feel you,” Steve begged, his breath hitching with each thrust.  It was all Bucky needed.  He buried his face into Steve’s neck, biting down on the skin over his clavicle to muffle his strained cry as he came.  Steve moaned through his heavy breathing, grinding himself down against Bucky’s dick to feel how it twitched inside his filled hole.  Bucky turned his head to the side, mouth open against Steve’s pulse point.  He managed to calm himself enough to focus on his best guy’s breathing.  Despite how quick and hard Steve was breathing, the noises weren’t too wet or too raspy with the threat of an oncoming attack._

_Satisfied, he gingerly withdrew and slumped into the bed beside Steve.  He pulled the smaller man in, nuzzling into his shoulder.  Steve was smiling dumbly up at the ceiling, though his body was curling in towards Bucky’s._

_“So?”  Steve inquired hesitantly after the afterglow and heat began to wane, and he was forced to pull blankets over himself to keep the chill off.  Bucky smirked a bit, nuzzling beneath his ear again._

_“Shut up an’ have a nap with me.  I got plans t’do that again in a li’l while,” Bucky murmured, which got him a little laugh from his best friend.  Steve’s hand pat at his bicep._

_“Love you, Bucky,” Steve admitted, turning his head to the side to assess the reaction from his friend.  He’d been so sure and steady in the words, but his expression betrayed how concerned he was.  Bucky knew he’d loved Steve since they were kids.  It wasn’t until recently that he began to consider that he was **in** love with Steve.  With the other’s confession out in the open, Bucky felt his heart unfurl a little bit from the vice it had been clamped in._

_“Love you back, Stevie,” he said, without hesitation or concern that they were just empty words whispered in the sheets and then forgotten when it was convenient.  Bucky’s lips curled into that crooked smile as he leaned over to kiss him gently.  “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”_

~ =☆= ~

Azzano, Italy - October 3rd, 1943

_I'm sorry, Stevie..._

_It was all Bucky could keep thinking in his mind as the dirty Kraut behind him jabbed the bayonet into his right shoulder blade. It barely broke the skin, but given his dirty clothes and the march ahead, it was going to get infected. At the very least, as he marched towards his inevitable death, Bucky knew his Stevie was safe at home in Brooklyn._

_I'm sorry, Stevie..._

~ =☆= ~

Kreischberg, Austria - November 21st, 1943

_"Sergeant James Barnes... 32557038... 107th, Brooklyn..." he babbled even though his throat was protesting, dry and scratchy. Even though the device was off and only ever on his head, his whole body ached. Joints burned and his muscles felt as though they were completely atrophied or coiled so tightly that he couldn't release them._

_Around him, he could sense the room in perfect clarity, even though he was sure his eardrums were blown out again. There were bellowy, popping noises that sounded both far away and very close at the same time. It wasn't the first time Zola had blown out his eardrums. Bucky had decided not to think about the supposedly irreparable damage healed up within a day. He also chose to willfully ignore that most of his injuries at the hands of Zola followed the same sort of healing process. Didn't matter what had been broken, it was repaired within a day or so, leaving behind gnarly scars._

_"Buck?" Ah. Yes. There it was. The delusion that he let himself slip into when the pain got to be too great. Steve was here to comfort him in his head. This time, though, Bucky was sure he was actually dying. He could see Steve's face above him, haloed like an angel's might be. Concern was writ across his best guy's face._

_"Steve?" He asked, his voice raspy, croaking from all the shouting he'd been doing earlier. Steve made a noise of confirmation. "Steve..." he said again, feeling a glimmer of bittersweet joy. If Steve was here, it meant they were both dead. But at least they were together. Had Steve gotten pneumonia? He was on his feet before he realized, dizzy and disoriented. And... and he could feel where Steve was hanging onto him, touching him.  But he was so damned big._

_"I thought you were smaller..." he mumbled, taking in the big body before him that finally matched the personality inside. It was a blur from there. Bucky wasn't so sure he wasn't dead, because there was Steve, but big, and then the base was coming down around their ears, and there was a man with a red face. It wasn't until some of his flagging strength returned and he was able to climb out of the truck he'd been laid up in that he knew this was real.  Of course, he marched right up to Steve, who was showing Dugan and Falsworth a map of where they were headed._

_"Can I speak to you a minute, Captain?" He inquired, keeping his tone level and even. Steve looked to him, and the guilty expression in his best guy's face told him everything he needed to know. Yes. This was definitely his Steve, definitely behind enemy lines in Austria, definitely bigger, and Bucky was definitely alive. Rogers bolstered his stance and handed the map to Dugan so he could follow Bucky a ways away from where they were camping for the night._

_"Bucky, I can explain," he started once they were out of earshot. Bucky whirled on him, and rather than giving him the dressing-down he had originally planned to give, he grabbed the lapels of Steve's torn coat and pulled him down and in. Steve's strong arms immediately banded around him as their lips met in a frantic flurry of life-affirmation. Bucky knocked the helmet off his head and carded his fingers through the greasy, blonde strands. When he broke the kiss barely a minute later, his hands were already working for Steve's shirt, shoving it up so he could get a look-see._

_"Fuckin' hell, Steve," Bucky mumbled, leaning in to suck in a bruise over his best guy's heart. "You're such an idiot. The hell were you thinkin', you damned fool?" Bucky scolded breathlessly as his hands dropped to tug open Steve's belt. Steve was grinning at him, even as the blush bloomed across his cheeks and down his throat._

_"Watch ya fuckin' mouth, Barnes," he teased, while his own hands worked to loosen Bucky's belt. His hands were shaking, Bucky realized, and he paused everything to grasp both of Steve's much larger hands and lift them up to his face._

_"It's okay... we're okay..." he found himself murmuring as he placed both of Steve's hands on his cheeks. Steve looked haunted and so very sad. Tears were blooming and the tip of his nose had gone red. "Baby, it's okay. I'm here," he soothed again, giving those larger hands a reassuring squeeze. Steve barely managed to nod as he leaned down to kiss him, allowing the grief he felt to slip away from him._

~ =☆= ~

London, England – December 1st, 1943

_“See?  I told you: they’re **all**  idiots,” Bucky mused to his best friend, as he twisted back to face the bar.  He felt like a sack of horse shit, and the whiskey swill in his glass wasn’t doing shit to get him drunk.  He’d polished off about half a bottle on an empty stomach, and the dim lights in the pub were just barely starting to twinkle. The bartender must have watered the bottle down. Bastard._

_Steve squeezed his left shoulder as he lowered himself onto the stool beside Bucky. The bartender put a whiskey down for him and they fell into that companionable touch, their shoulders and knees pressed together. It was all they could manage in public._

_"How about you?  You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?" Steve inquired. The sardonic way he said his stage name did not go unnoticed by Bucky. He smirked and twisted his head to glance at the cancelled USO poster on the wall. Shaking his head, he sipped his whiskey, side-eyeing his best guy._

_"Hell no. That li'l guy from Brooklyn... I'm followin' him," Bucky said. Steve ducked his head to hide the brief blush that flooded his features. He couldn't help but want to capitalize, to make that blush sneak deeper under Steve's uniform. Leaning in closer, he dropped his voice a pitch or two. "But you're keepin' the outfit, right?"_

_Getting Steve back to base after that was a trial. Peggy showing up in that crimson dress got just about every soldier's tongues wagging within a mile radius. Bucky knew he was jealous as hell, and Steve took all the damned time in the world getting out of the bar.  The smug smirk on the punk’s face told him he was well aware of why Bucky was chomping at the bit to get a move on, and it had nothing to do with the costume._

~ =☆= ~

The Alps – March 2nd, 1945

_Bucky was on edge.  He’d been on edge since Steve had led him and the rest of the Howlers into the Swiss mountains.  He didn’t know what it was.  The cold, the location, the fact that they were going to be zip-lining across a giant gorge onto a train that moved faster than any other train he’d seen before… take your pick on what was chewing him up.  As they stood near the ledge, Bucky tracked where the zip line was in the icy sheet across the way, to where it was secured on this side.  God, he hoped it held with over six hundred pounds of weight sliding down it._

_“Remember when I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?”  Bucky drawled, looking over at his best guy.  The smallest smirk pulled at Steve’s mouth, and he knew in that instant that Steve knew exactly what he was going to be driving at._

_“Yeah, and I threw up?”  Steve inquired, his tone utterly innocent.  Bucky knew better._

_“This isn’t payback, is it?”  Bucky asked, shifting his weight onto one leg to eye Steve closely.  The small smile grew until his face was split in half._

_“Now, why would I do that?”  Steve sassed and it made Bucky laugh faintly.  A bit of the uneasy tension in his stomach loosened.  They could do this.  They’d done crazier stunts since working under the SSR.  This was nothing.  Maybe if he repeated that enough in his head, he’d actually believe it.  They soon had the report that Zola was on the train, and Bucky felt his flesh go cold.  It had nothing to do with the temperature.  Rage broiled inside of him and any concerns he had about making the jump to the train faded into the absolute focus of the mission._

_“-- 10 second window.  If we don’t make it, we’re bugs on the windshield,” Steve’s voice broke through his hazy anger, and he managed a quick nod.  He bit back the comment that came to his tongue about instilling confidence in his team with speeches like that.  Instead, he just rolled his eyes, secured his rifle over his back, and picked up the zip line trolley.  Bucky had never been afraid of heights, but as his body passed over open air to the gorge 500 feet below, he could feel his stomach drop into his boots faster than an elevator with a cut line.  Steve was gonna get an earful when they got back to camp._

_Bucky dropped down low on the top of the train, nodding to Steve who glanced back to make sure he was there. He did the same over his own shoulder, getting a nod from Gabe. Once he was sure his legs were going to actually support his weight and not liquefy beneath him, he headed after Steve along the top of the train.  Gabe stayed sentry on top, while he and Steve infiltrated the car._

_It happened so quickly.  Bucky had never known fear like that in his life.  One moment, he was prowling up the car at Steve’s six, and the next, they were separated into two different ones.  They were both under attack, and he was forced to pray and hope that whatever experimentation Steve had gone through would keep him alive long enough for Bucky to save his ass, as usual.    Before he knew it, he’d blown through his rifle and his sidearm ammunition.  Crouching behind a few supply crates, his back pressed against the train’s interior wall.  He forced himself to breathe steady, swallowing down the panic that overwhelmed him._

_He was slowly coming to terms with death, when Steve opened the car door and held up his own sidearm.  Relief flooded him and he nodded, setting his own aside.  They moved as one.  Bucky caught Steve’s pistol and stood to open fire around the crates.  Steve ran forward and shifted some of the cargo to all but flatten the HYDRA agent’s head.  Keeping the gun in hand, he moved to stand beside Steve, letting out a shaky breath._

_“I had ‘em on the ropes,” Bucky huffed out._

_“I know ya did,” Steve agreed with a faint smile.  The brief interlude was interrupted by the familiar whir of HYDRA tech.  Steve immediately put himself between the fella with two giant cannons on his arms and Bucky, but it did little.  Both men were knocked to the ground.  Bucky was up first, Steve’s shield in hand.  It was heavier than he thought it was, and he barely managed to get one strap in hand to hold it up in front of his body before taking aim on the cannoneer._

_Bucky didn’t even get a shot off.  One moment he was standing there with Steve’s shield, and the next, he was outside of the train, the wide chasm of the valley beneath him.  Panic and fear came back in full-force, and he could barely shout for the cold wind that froze his esophagus._

_“Steve!”  He tried to scream, but it husked in his throat.  He clung desperately to the railing he’d grabbed onto, his fingers freezing around the metal as he tried to haul himself closer to the blown-open side of the train.  He could see Gabe above him, but there was nothing he could do.  And then there was Steve, reaching out to him.  Bucky was so close, stretching out for the love of his life’s hand.  Their fingers touched, and the railing snapped free under his weight, and he screamed._

_It was a strange sort of peace that came over him.  No, not peace.  Acceptance.  As the train disappeared beyond the fog and the icy ground started getting closer and closer, Bucky simply closed his eyes and let it happen.  He’d been on borrowed time since he’d been drafted.  He thought of Steve, and put his prayers out to the universe before he hit the earth._

_I’m sorry, Stevie.  I’ll find you again in another life.  I promise…_

~ =☆= ~

Bucky’s entire body twitched simultaneously, yanking him from his dreams.  No.  That had been a _nightmare_.  He scrambled to sit up as the bile rose into his throat, and swallowed hard a few times to keep it at bay.  The air conditioning in the hotel room was rapidly cooling the sheen of sweat on his body, but the cold he felt was bone-deep.  He shuddered and wrapped himself up in the blankets, pulling them over his head like a child hiding from a monster under the bed.  Well, he tried to.  His left arm was numb.  He’d probably slept on it funny.

Attempting to close his eyes only led to him seeing the snow he’d landed in.  No, not him.  It was his namesake, but it wasn’t?  The Bucky in his dreams had been older, stronger, and definitely had not been wearing patriotic spandex.  The Bucky in his dreams had known Steve Rogers when he was scrawny and scrappy, rather than meeting him later on during the war.  The Bucky in his dreams also fell from a train, rather than dying in a fiery explosion.  The Bucky in his dreams was also having sex with Captain America.  That was _definitely_ not in the comic books.  Hell, _everything_ had been different but it had _felt_ right.

On top of that, the Bucky in his dreams had looked… looked like _him_ , and Steve Rogers had looked like, well… he wasn’t sure, but he’d recognize those baby blue eyes anywhere.

“Buck?”  Darcy asked from the twin bed a few feet away from his own.  He let the blankets fall down to his shoulders and turned to look at her.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”  Bucky inquired, utterly mortified.  Christ, he hadn’t moaned in his sleep, had he?  That would have just been the icing on the cake.  She switched on the light between them and he knew instantly that while he may have moaned in his sleep, something else had happened.  Her brow was pinched and she was chewing her bottom lip red.  At first, his stomach tightened up.  Did Darcy get a text from someone back home?

“Yeah.  You were screaming,” his best friend whispered, like she was trying to soften the blow.  Bucky felt his throat go dry, and his stomach did an unhappy twist.  He ducked his head and looked down to where he was clutching the sheets in both of his fists.  The bed dipped beside him, and Darcy’s dainty hands were wrapping around him from behind.  She set her cheek on his left shoulder and hugged him back against her body.  He ignored the way his shoulder tingled under the touch, figuring that the feeling was finally coming back to it.

“Wanna talk ‘bout it?”  She murmured into his shoulder.  He could do little else but give a weak laugh as his body sagged back against her.  Despite her size, she was deceptively strong.  With her coaxing and tugging, they were soon curled up together in the blankets.  Darcy settled her cheek on his chest, and wrapped her arm around him to wait him out.  Bucky eventually sighed, before giving a tiny laugh of self-loathing.

“It’s stupid.  I dreamed I was fallin’ from a train… but it wasn’t me?  It was _Bucky_ -Bucky.  But he looked like me.  And I was watching it all go down rather than seein’ it through my-- _his_ eyes…”  Bucky mumbled, frowning up at the stucco ceiling above them. Darcy’s fingers were tapping gently on his chest, idly tracing where the tattoo ended against his pectoral muscle.  It felt cold under her fingers and he sort of regretted sleeping without a shirt on.  It had just been so damned warm.

“It isn’t stupid.  Weird, but not stupid,” she offered, but what else could she say?  There was no _real_ hard science on dreams.  It was all theory and guesswork.  Darcy shrugged and wrapped herself around him a little tighter.  “Try t’get some sleep, Buck.  I got you, okay?  You’re safe,” she murmured, patting his side lightly.  Bucky sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  He knew sleep wouldn’t come tonight, not easily anyway.  Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was bright white snow and Steve Rogers’ face moving further and further away from him.

~ =☆= ~

Bucky had awoken alone that morning in a cold sweat but mercifully alone.  His left shoulder still felt icy, and he found himself squeezing at the ball of it a few times to try to stimulate the blood flow.  His head was pounding, and he must have bitten his tongue in the night because he could taste blood.  The odd melancholy he felt in his chest remained.  He was quiet over their breakfast in the commissary, and Darcy had taken to eyeing him when he'd stop pushing his scrambled eggs around on the paper plate long enough to apply pressure to his shoulder.

It was Darcy's decision to drag him on the resort bus to the park, rather than going shopping like she wanted to. _'Maybe seeing your star-spangled lover boy'll pull you outta this funk_ ' she'd said. Darcy always had known him best.

He bolstered himself up, put on a pair of pinstriped trousers with navy suspenders that he left hanging at his hips, and a black button down that he only did up halfway so the red tank top beneath was exposed. He tied his hair back rather than leaving it hanging in his face like he might have otherwise. Wasn't much he could do about the dark bruises under his eyes, even when Darcy had brandished her make-up bag and threatened to make him a pretty, pretty princess.

_Elsa ain't got nothin' on **your** eyelashes, Buck-Buck._

Darcy flirted with Thor again, and he was absolutely receptive, flirting right back. Bucky just smiled a little at his best girl and took a video on his phone for posterity's sake.  The guys at the comic book shop would never believe it unless he had video evidence. Darcy slipped off passed the few people in line for Cap to give Bucky a moment. While he appreciated it, he could have used the support.

Cap was on bent knee once again beside a teenager in a wheelchair with a Make A Wish t-shirt on. He'd given the boy his shield to hold for the picture and was smiling for the camera. An odd wave of relief fell over Bucky. The guy was perfectly fine. Of course he was, it had only been a dream. Cap waved goodbye to the boy and his family as they left before setting his eyes on Bucky.  A small, almost private smile came to his mouth, and his baby blues sparkled. Bucky felt warmth slip through him before he could stop it as he moved a little closer to the fella. He looked amazing, even with the faint bruises under his eyes.

"It's you," he said, cheerfully in spite of his apparent exhaustion.  Bucky tried not to overthink Cap's tone. It wasn't relief. It was surprise. Bucky grinned and made a little 'ta-da' noise while he posed.  It made Cap's face split into a grin so he counted it as a win.

"It's me," he confirmed, suppressing the exhaustion in his voice.  He clearly failed when Cap gave him a quick once over like he was checking for injuries. Bucky felt the cold stiffness in his left shoulder prickle to life, like the man knew what he'd been dreaming about. Bucky did his best to hide the way his body wanted to squirm by handing his phone over to the photographer and stepping up to Cap's left side.

"Y'know," he drawled as he brought the shield up. "You don't have to have your picture taken to get in close to me," he said it so quietly that Bucky wasn't sure he'd said it at all. The picture that was taken was of Bucky fish-mouthing at Cap, while Cap was the picture of innocence, smiling for the camera.  His eyebrow arched and he gave Cap a look that all but screamed bullshit.  He was trying very hard not to think that this guy was flirting with him. He was working for Christ's sake. It must have been in the cast member handbook or something to make everybody feel welcome and comfortable. There was no way Bucky was lucky enough to find a guy that looked like the personification of Captain America, and he just happened to be gay, to boot.

"So what? I just ask for a hug and you'll gimme one?" Bucky inquired sceptically. Cap merely smiled and nodded. That warm feeling came back, blooming through Bucky's chest and making his knees feel weak and wobbly. Rather than waiting for Bucky to ask, Cap took a step back and opened his arms up.  Bucky's heart skipped a beat and he pursed his lips. After the dream, he was still feeling like he was in a haze. Maybe he was dreaming now too. Oh well, if he was, at least whatever embarrassing noise he made or accidental boner that occurred wouldn't be real.

Biting on his bottom lip, Bucky moved into the offered embrace and wrapped his arms around Cap's back. California was hot and sticky, but the embrace that came was warm and comforting all the same. Bucky closed his eyes and squeezed slightly, doing his damnedest not to think about the muscle resistance under the costume, or how he smelled like mahogany and sage.  It was fucking difficult though, especially when Cap hugged him back. It was real and, for whatever reason, life-affirming.

"Better?" He murmured softly, and Bucky could feel his warm breath through his hair and along the edge of his ear. Bucky nodded and loosened his grip. Cap did the same, though the touch was lingering. The winning grin was back on the other man's face, as he lightly let his hands drop away and stood up straight.

"Thanks, man. Didn't realize how bad I needed that," Bucky confessed, uncaring that he might have made it awkward. There were no noises or hard-on's to speak of, so he counted this bit of awkwardness as a point in his column.

"Anytime, it's what we superheroes do, you know," he said with a small smirk on his lips. That finally, _finally_ , got Bucky to crack a true smile, and he ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks. He peeked up at Cap through his eyelashes, and caught him giving Bucky another once over; slower this time, taking him in from the toes of his sneakers to the bun of his hair. If that wasn't a bit of an ego boost, Bucky didn't know what was. A lopsided grin crawled across his lips as he tipped his chin up.

"My hero," Bucky hummed, before wiggling his inked fingers in a silent farewell. Despite the desire to flounce off without looking back like they do in the movies, Bucky glanced back over his shoulder to see Cap nearly being bowled over by a hyperactive toddler, caught with the surprise because his eyes had been on Bucky's retreating form.

Darcy all but latched onto his arm the moment he was in reach, juggling a bag of popcorn so she could hold it in the arm through Bucky's while the other was free to stuff her face.

"Better?" Darcy inquired after swallowing a mouthful. Bucky felt a small smile cross his lips as the single word made him instantly recall how it had rumbled through Cap's chest when he'd spoken it to him. Bucky reached for a handful of her snack. He got a slap on the knuckles but was undeterred.

"Mhmm.  M'pretty sure that fella was flirtin' with me," Bucky mused, before popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. Darcy grinned and gave his ribs a conspiratorial nudge with her elbow.

~ =★= ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's my real-life headcanon that when you dream about yourself, but things aren't quite how they are in your reality, you're actually dreaming about an alternative universe version of yourself. You're on the same brainwaves and stuff, so when you're sleeping, and if they're awake, you're watching the other you's life. It's weird and existential, I know, but **I'm** weird, so it works, I guess?
> 
> Anyway, rambling, but that's basically what's going on in Bucky's dream. He's in our reality (which I'm going to start referring to as Earth-4PH1, but dreaming of his Earth-19999 (the MCU) self. (Get it? Earth-APHI? That's me. Shut up.)
> 
> Also, this was chapter was a lot longer, but it ended up going crazy on me. It's been split into two! Good news, at least, means the next chapter is already nearly done!
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr](http://meshla-aphrodisia.tumblr.com/)! I swear I don't bite hard unless you want me to. It's really just a whole helluva lot of Stucky trash over there. You've been warned.


	4. Will You Recognize Me? Call My Name Or Walk On By?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It needs only twenty seconds to disassemble the Dragunov and pack the pieces into its vest. It runs across the rooftop. Sounds of crashing below alert it that it is being pursued. It jumps across an alley and runs for the edge of the building to make for the street. A sharp whistling behind it causes it to turn, barely catching the metal shield in its metal arm. It eyes the blonde civilian – no, that was a soldier staring at him – before launching the shield back at him. It jumps off the edge of the building._

~ =★= ~

Manhattan, New York – September 24th, 2015  
**Excerpt from the Logbook of Dr. Stephen Strange, M.D.**

Discussions with Prince Odinson devolved swiftly upon the discussion turning to alternative dimensions. He could neither confirm nor deny their existence despite my position as Sorcerer Supreme.  As the old adage goes, silence is as much a confirmation as speaking the truth directly.  Must dash, Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes have just arrived.

~ =☆= ~

[Unknown] – [Unknown]

Hello, Sergeant Barnes.

_It hurts. Oh god, it hurts. Steve, help me!_

**Target: undefined.**  
**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**

_What's that sound? Like metal gears in my head.  It’s everywhere.  God, please, make it stop. Steve!_

**Obey designation: Technician.  
Obey designation: Doctor.**

_Ah, fuck!  It hurts!  God, no, not that thing again!  It burns!_

**Obey designation: Scientist.**

_I'm so cold. It's so cold. It hurts. It hurts so much. Make it stop make it stop make it stop...!_

**Obey: Arnim Zola.**

_I know that name... shit. No! I won't!_

You are nothing.  
You come from nothing.  
You belong to nothing.  
You are The Asset.

_No! My name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038, Brooklyn... Steve…_

You are nothing.  
You come from nothing.  
You belong to nothing.  
You are The Asset.   
You are my Winter Soldier.

~ =☆= ~

[Unknown] – [Unknown]

_The strikes hit true each time I take ‘em. Ribs are broken, I can see my own blood poolin’ ‘round where I’m curled up on the cold floor. The man above me is speakin’ with each hit, beatin’… beatin’ somethin’ into me.  Or outta me.  He’s speakin’ Russian… at least, I think it’s Russian.  I don’t remember ever knowin’ Russian.  I remember a skinny kid, blonde hair, bright eyes, bloody nose.  Punk.  Some punk._

You are nothing.

**Target: undefined.**  
**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**

_The more I scream and cry, the harder the strikes come. The man digs his fingers into the stump of my arm, tearin’ open the flesh and grabbin’ onto the bone.  I howl and he shoves his boot into my mouth. Where’s the punk?  Where’s… where’s Steve?  Steve remembers me… doesn’t he?  I can’t be the only one to forget myself. He saved me once before, I think._

**Obey designation: Technician.**  
**Obey designation: Doctor.  
** **Obey designation: Scientist.**

_Okay… okay, yeah.  Just… just stop hurtin’ me… please, please God._

**Obey: Arnim Zola.**

_No!  Not him!  F-fuck!  No._

**It will obey.**

_No, I fuckin’ won’t!  Where’s Steve?  I need Steve!_

You are nothing.  Wipe him.  Freeze him.  Start over.

~ =☆= ~

[Unknown] – [Unknown]

**Target: undefined.**  
**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.**  
**Obey designation: Doctor.**  
**Obey designation: Scientist.**  
**Obey Arnim Zola.**

_Steve… Steve… Steve…_

Steve is dead.

_Steve… Ste--what?_

Crashed a plane.  He’s dead.

_N… no.  No no.  Steve.  Steve can’t die.  They show me.  Newspaper clippin’.  It’s in Russian.  How do I know Russian?  Captain America.  I don’t know who Captain America is but the face, the face is the blonde man in my head._

No one is coming for you.  You are nothing.

_But… Steve…_

Steve is dead.

_I…_

You are nothing.

**It understands.**

~ =☆= ~

[Unknown] – [Unknown]

**Target: undefined.**  
**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.**  
**Obey designation: Doctor.**  
**Obey designation: Scientist.**  
**Obey Arnim Zola.**

**Blood is freezing on its hands. Technician hadn't bothered to clean it.  Can see its reflection in the glass as the lights outside go out.  Level two bruising of the occipital bone on the right side. It was punished for… it does not remember what it was punished for.**   **It is so cold. Very cold. The freezing starts at its toes and its fingers, frosting its hair and making it close its eyes against the sting.**

_Head hurts._

**Assets do not feel pain.  Assets are above such things that make Targets cry. The wetness on its face is from the freezing chemicals.**

_Feel everything.  Freezin’ t’death, over and over again._

**SHUT UP!**

~ =☆= ~

The Red Room – [Unknown]

**Target: undefined.**  
**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.**  
**Obey designation: Doctor.**  
**Obey designation: Scientist.**  
**Obey: Arnim Zola.**  
**Protect: Black Widows.**

**28 girls.  Its little spiders.  They dance for it, moving in ways no average human’s body is able to.  They call it American, but speak to it in Russian.  It trains them, day in and day out.  It is the longest it recalls being out of containment.  Weeks, before it is wiped and return to cryo.**

**It is never for long though, and it always returns with most of the memories of the little girls, though they sometimes appear older than it recalls.  It forgets their names, but they remind it, as though they are used to it being unable to recall.**

**There is one girl, a woman now, who speaks to it as though it is a man.  Her hair is the colour of fire and her eyes like emeralds.  They glint with something mischievous, but it knows the deadliness that lies within.  She will use that to her advantage at every opportunity.  It knows what they do in the cover of darkness will bear them both punishment in the end, but she tastes of vodka and cherry, and it wants nothing more than to die on her lips.**

**It craves and yearns.  It makes a plan to escape with her.  It does not know where the thought initially comes from, but it runs with it.  She kisses him sweetly the night before they are to leave.**

**Handlers come for it in the night.  They drag it to the chair, scrub it clean.  It blinks at its reflection in the glass, watching as the bruises begin to heal before the ice comes and thoughts vanish.**

~ =☆= ~

[Classified] – [Unknown]

**Target:  
Level 7:  Male.  Black.  Bald.  Approximately 6’2” and 215 pounds.  Status: in pursuit.  Mission: Eliminate.**

**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.  
** **Obey designation: Doctor.  
** **Obey designation: Scientist.  
** **Obey: Alexander Pierce.  
**Return to Handler [Pierce, Alexander] upon mission completion for further instructions.****

**Wind provides two feet of drift between buildings.  Adjusting parameters.  Target located inside apartment across alley.  No visual confirmation.**

**Waiting…**

**Waiting…**

**Waiting…**

**Unidentified male on site.  Enters apartment through kitchen window.  It doesn’t understand.  It doesn’t continue to think on Civilian’s strange habit.  Its grip tightens on the Dragunov, tucking the rifle tighter into its shoulder in preparation to take out Target.**

**Civilian is speaking to Target.  No other possibility.  It adjusts its scope onto the wall, gauging positioning by where Civilian is standing and looking.  Three shots in quick succession.  Civilian appears alarmed.**

**Target down.  Mission accomplished.**

**It needs only twenty seconds to disassemble the Dragunov and pack the pieces into its vest.  It runs across the rooftop.  Sounds of crashing below alert it that it is being pursued.  It jumps across an alley and runs for the edge of the building to make for the street.  A sharp whistling behind it causes it to turn, barely catching the round shield in its metal arm.  It eyes the blonde civilian – no, higher threat level.  The blonde man is focused, alert, poised to defend.  This is a soldier staring at him.  It was instructed not to engage.  It whips the shield back at him.  It jumps off the edge of the building.**

_I knew him…_

~ =☆= ~

[Classified] – [Unknown]

**Targets:**  
**Level 7:  Male. Black.  Bald.  Approximately 6’2” and 215 pounds.  Status: Eliminated.  
** **Level 6.  Male.  Honduran.  Bald.  Approximately 5'7" and 180 pounds.  Status: Eliminated.  
**Level 6.  Female.  Caucasian.  Red hair.  Approximately 5’3" and 140 pounds.  Status: In pursuit.  Mission: Four hours left to eliminate.****

_She’s familiar…_

**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.  
** **Obey designation: Doctor.  
** **Obey designation: Scientist.  
** **Obey: Alexander Pierce.  
**Cause maximum collateral damage.****

_Don't hurt anyone else._

**Do not engage Level 10 target unless provoked.**  
**Male.  Caucasian.  Blonde.  Approximately 6'4" and 270 pounds.  
Disarm, disable, and extract.  Do not eliminate.**

_Oh god. Steve. He’s alive… god, he’s alive!  I know him. You know him! Stop this!_

**Return to Handler [Pierce, Alexander] upon mission completion for calibration and storage.**

_Don't go back. Steve can help us. Please! Pierce will not help us!  He’ll only make us hurt again!_

**Assets do not feel pain.**

_Yes they do, god damn it!_

**Level 10 engaged.**

_Stop it!  Not him!_

**Excellent fighter. Moves fast, harder to hit.  Focused.  Carries shield.  It recognizes the shield from first mission since cryogenic stasis.  Level 10 proficient with weapon of choice despite archaic technology.  Level 10 continues to deflect attacks before they can be landed.  Hits hard.  It gets flipped over Level 10, its mask clatters to the pavement.  It rolls with the movement and is on its feet, turning to look at Level 10.  He looks confused, his posture shifts to something close to surrender.  It can see that Level 10 will deflect another attack.**

“Bucky?”

_Yes!  Stevie!  It’s me, I’m here!  God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… please forgive me…_

**“Who the hell is Bucky?”**    **It takes aim on the Level 10, intending to harm, a good shot to the shoulder will disable.  Something kicks it in the shoulders, and it stumbles to the ground, banging its head on the pavement.  Groggily, it gets to its feet, shaking off the sudden jarring quickly.  It looks back to Level 10, and… feels.  Assets to not feel.**

_Listen to me!  That is our friend!  He can help us!  He can make the pain stop!_

**That… there… there is no pain.  Assets do not feel pain.  It… it lies!  It takes aim again.  The whistling of a grenade launcher makes it duck, barely missing Level 6’s attack.  The heat nearly burns through its armour as it stands back up.  It runs.  Runs from the feeling, the man with the blonde hair and baby blue eyes.  It needs answers.**

_Don’t go to Pierce.  For the love of god, don’t go to Pierce… please!_

~ =☆= ~

Insight Helicarrier: Charlie – [Unknown]

**Targets:**  
**Level  10.  Male.  Caucasian.  Blonde.  Approximately 6'4" and 270 pounds.  Status: In pursuit.  Mission: Eliminate with extreme prejudice.**  
**Level 6.  Female.  Caucasian.  Red hair.  Approximately 5’3" and 140 pounds.  Status: Unknown.  Mission: Eliminate.**  
**Level 5.  Male.  Black.  Brunette.  Approximately 5’8” and 200 pounds.  Status: Disabled.  Mission: Eliminate.**

**Standing orders:**  
**Obey designation: Handler.**  
**Obey designation: Technician.  
** **Obey designation: Doctor.  
** **Obey designation: Scientist.  
** **Obey: Alexander Pierce.  
**Return to Handler [Pierce, Alexander] for elimination upon mission completion.****

“You’ve known me your whole life.”

**Asset’s flesh arm hung useless at its side, the collarbone broken and shoulder dislocated.  It registers a few broken ribs from the support structure that had fallen on him.  Level 10 is begging.  It seems to recall people begging it.  This tone and exchange is different.  Target isn’t begging for his life.  He is begging for…**

_He doesn’t want to hurt you… he saved you from under the beam, you fucking asshole!_

**Shut up.  Shut up!  It attacks Level 10 viciously.  He staggers back from the Asset, breathing hard with an empty look in his eyes.  No, not empty.  Sad.  Overwhelmingly sad.  Something twists in its chest.  It does not like the feeling.**

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.”

**“Shut up!”  Shut up, shut up, shut up!  It attacks again, swinging the metal arm and splitting Target’s cheek open.  The helicarrier is coming down around them but it will not fail, not again.  This is its last mission.  It is going to earn its peace from Handler.**

“I’m not going to fight you,”  **Target says it so decidedly, as he drops his shield and it falls away into the water far below.  Something inside its stomach flips over as it watches the blue and red circle descend and disappear into the water.  It does not fear anything, not even heights, it reminds itself.**

_Stevie, no!_

“You’re my friend.”

**“You’re my mission,” it growls, before attacking.  It uses all its weight and strength to lift Target and slam him hard onto his back.  It pins Target to the viewing windows and lays into him with the metal fist, until the grooves are caked with blood and flesh.  “You’re my mission!”**

“Then finish it,”  **Target is wheezing, his voice breathy, like he can’t get a deep breath.** _My stomach flips again, twisting, concern filling my chest.  I can’t describe it.  It hurts, it aches, but I have to finish this, I have a mission… they’ll hurt me if I don’t, god the pain, no…_

_“’Cause I’m with ya, ‘til the end of the line,” Steve says.  The noises of the explosions around us don’t meet my ears as I stare down in horror at what I’ve done.  Recognition crawls across my eyes before they start to sting with tears.  I don’t have a chance to grab Steve and get him up, to get us out of the mess I’ve gotten us into, because the floor falls away beneath us…_

~ =☆= ~

Bucky did not like these dreams.  There was nothing to like.  He woke up feeling cold all over, again, with his left shoulder just as numb as it had been the day before.  Even if he couldn’t recall everything that happened, as the dreams faded in the morning light, the headspace he was in was the worst of it.  He knew he was in his body, but everything seemed hollow, insignificant.  It took Darcy all but forcing him under the hot shower and throwing clothes at him for Bucky to shake a small amount of the gauzy feeling off.

Darcy had shoved some breakfast down his throat and shoved him onto the bus for the park with a telling finger jabbed in his direction.  She had left him with a ‘ _tap dat ass, Bucko_ ’ before heading off to do some shopping in Downtown Disney to recharge her batteries.

Bucky had a plan, and he was  _going_  to get Cap’s number.  Or Skype handle.  Or Facebook.  Or Tumblr.  Or  _something_.  Because he was an idiot and madly in love with a guy that was stacked like Cap and was  _flirting_  with him.  God damn, Bucky was  _sure_ there was flirtation.  And the guy remembered who  _he_  was, so… that had to count for something, right?  How many people stood in line to see him in a day?  Hundreds?  A thousand?

If nothing else, Bucky would give Cap the business card he’d swiped from his hotel’s front desk.  He’d scratched out the information on the front and written his own information on the back.  He’d worn a tank top again to show off his ink, jeans that Darcy said made his ass look  _fiiiiine_ , and his hair was swept up into a bun.  

Bucky was standing in the line to see Captain America and Thor.  He was twisting that card in his fingers, careful not to smudge the ink in his sweaty palms.  The last thing he wanted was for a five to get blurred into a six.  His life would be  _over_.  Okay, that was a bit dramatic.  With the advent of social media, he was sure he could somehow get in touch with the guy again, in a totally non-creepy stalker sort of way. Maybe the Disney cast members would take pity on him and tell him there was a super-secret social media site.

Would it be considered a grand, romantic gesture if he posted a selfie of himself holding a sign asking for help to find the Cap that worked at Disneyland during their vacation days?  God, he was such a sap.  The line was longer than it had been the last three days, which just gave Bucky’s gut more time to twist and roll with his nerves.  His insidious brain wasn’t helping, either, listing off all the reasons why this was a stupid ass decision and he should elect to ignore it.

By the time Bucky was at the front of the line, he was a dithering mess of  _should I or shouldn’t I_.  All that went out the window as the handler called him forward and he approached Cap with a small smile on his lips.  He looked up into the baby blu--

Green.  The eyes were green.  A faint frown drew over Bucky’s forehead as he took a closer look at what was exposed of Cap’s face beneath his cowl.  Lips were thinner and not as pink, and there was a small cleft at the middle of his chin.  On top of that, there was the barest hint of brown hair peeking out from under the cowl.

“You’re not my Cap,” Bucky blurted out before he could stop himself.  The cast member in front of him blinked but fell back into the role easily enough.

“Who else would I be, pal?  There’s only one Captain America!”  Well, this guy didn’t know the comics  _at all_  apparently, but Bucky just numbly nodded and had the handler take a picture with him on his cell phone.  He thanked fake!Cap and shuffled out of the way for a family of four.

Bucky scowled at the picture and deleted it with as much extreme prejudice as thumbing the trash can icon would allow.  He pulled up his text messages and thought to text Darcy, but sighed and closed out of it.  She needed a break from him.  He crumpled up the business card and tossed it into a trashcan as he walked by.  Because if his Cap’s day off was today, it probably meant he had tomorrow off, too, and Bucky had missed his chance.  Or worse.  Bucky knew that cast members were contracted.  What if his contract was up and he was already heading back to wherever he lived?

With the storm cloud over his head and his gaze stuck on his phone, he completely missed moving into someone’s personal bubble.  He proceeded to all but slam into the guy’s torso – guy, definitely, his brain told him, simply because of the size and the smell of his cologne. Large hands had settled on Bucky’s biceps to keep him from toppling over, which would have just been the sprinkles on the icing on this shit cake of a day.

“Oh, shit, man, I’m so sorry.  Wasn’t lookin’ where I was--” Bucky trailed off as he looked up at the person he’d run into.  Baby blues eyes stared down at him, glinting with mischief that was echoed by the faint curve of a smirk on his mouth.  Bucky’s breath lodged in his throat, swaying a bit from the shock.  “You’re here,” he managed to say on a breathy exhale, eloquently, because  _duh_.

“Well, I thought you’d maybe come by again today.  Didn’t want you to go away disappointed without seein’ me,” Bucky’s Cap replied with a knowing smile.  Oh god, he actually  _was_  flirting with him!  A grin broke across Bucky’s mouth as he looked up to him.  The better part?  The guy had an accent from back home now that he wasn’t putting it on for the role.  Brooklyn.

“I  _knew_  you were mackin’ on me, punk,” Bucky replied smoothly, still smiling like an idiot.  He was aware of the other man’s thumbs stroking over the stiff muscle in Bucky’s biceps, and he found himself humming a bit with the awareness in the rest of his body that came from it.

“Yeah, yeah I was.  So how ‘bout we do this right, huh?”  He released Bucky from his grip, and Bucky had to suppress the whine that he wanted to release at that.  Still, the other man was holding out his hand and Bucky took it in his tattooed one.

“Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself, and Bucky just about shit a brick.  His heart gave a distant twinge, like he should be remembering something but it wasn’t right at the forefront for him to grab onto and investigate.  He let it slide away instead.

“Shaddap. You’re pullin’ my leg,” Bucky gaped as he took Steve’s hand.  Steve shrugged lightly and gave out a small huff of laughter.

“My mom was real big on comic books.”

“Well, shit, this was meant to be then.  Bucky Barnes,” he replied.  Steve’s expression was one he wished he could have gotten a picture of.  His baby blue eyes were wide and his lips were parted with surprise.  It took a half minute before Steve realized and managed to school his expressions.  The entire time, Bucky was smirking.  “My dad was big on comic books, too.”

“Well, then, Bucky, I’d love t’take you on a date an’ show you around,” Steve said, still hanging onto Bucky’s hand firmly, like he might slip away if given the opportunity.  Yeah, right.  Slip away from  _Steve Rogers_?  Not on your life, punk.

“I’m all yours, Cap.”

~ =☆= ~

They spent the day wandering around the park and talking.  Just… talking the whole time.  Bucky had never really experienced it before, but talking to Steve was like talking to an old friend.  The conversation flowed easily between going on rides or watching a show. And the blonde was rarely out of arm’s reach.  It got to a point where their fingers were laced together more often than not, his inked palm in Steve’s flawless one.

Steve ended up taking Bucky to Downtown Disney, to Ralph Brennan's Jazz Kitchen.  It was a Creole-inspired jazz house that turned into a nightclub after hours.  They’d eaten their fill of New Orleans-style food and were settled back in their table while the staff quickly buzzed around them to get the place set up for the night.  They hadn’t been asked to leave, not even glanced at with eyes that told them to _get lost_.

“You come here a lot,” Bucky pointed out as their server whipped by with another round before heading over to help move tables and push the stand-up piano into place.  Bucky picked up his vodka on the rocks as he looked over to Steve, who was smirking around the mouth of his beer bottle.

“Yeah, it’s m’favourite place out here.  They just got used t’me hangin’ ‘round durin’ change-over an’ figured it wouldn’t hurt since I work here, too,” Steve shrugged, nudging his knee against Bucky’s beneath the table.  The brunette grinned with a small amount of shyness and nudged right back.  His chest fluttered with excitement at the touch, even with how simple it was.

All that was stomped right down as a svelte red head approached the table with a tell-tale sway of her hips.  _Level 6._ Bucky shook off the stray thought as the woman put a hand down flat on the table and leaned, smiling sweetly at both of them.  She was a pretty little thing, her red curls loose around her shoulders and full lips that twisted into an impish smile as she looked both men over.  Her uniform was the same as the rest of the employees that were still working on flipping the club over, but the way her body filled it out made it seem almost sinful.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she greeted in a husky whisper, grinning at Steve, who had the good graces to blush and glance away.  Her green eyes slipped to Bucky and gave  _him_  an appreciative once over, too.  He swallowed back the jealous knot in his throat and looked up to her, dead-on.  For a brief moment as he assessed her, he felt like a junkyard dog pissing on what was his.  And it was  _ridiculous_.  Steve and he had only been talking as real people for a few hours, but there is was.  He’d felt the same possessive streak over Darcy when people hit on her in front of him before she put him in his place.

“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he greeted, coolly, resisting the urge to add  _I’m Steve’s date_  just to smother it into her stupid face.  Beneath the table, he felt Steve’s warm hand settle over his thigh, which he hadn’t realized was bouncing on the ball of his foot until Steve pushed on it.  Even when he stopped twitching, Steve’s hand remained.  He could feel the blonde’s thumb stroking back and forth, gently against the outer seam of his jeans.

“Hi, Bucky, I’m Nat,” she replied with that same mischievous smile.  Oh yeah, she knew  _exactly_  what she was doing.  “Good to see that Rogers has  _some_  friends other than that guy that plays Thor,” Nat teased, tossing a wink at Steve who just blushed harder and looked away.  The junkyard dog in Bucky was about ready to bend Steve over the table and mount him right in front Nat.  Instead, he just grinned at her with too much teeth.

“S’cuse me, gorgeous.  Back in a flash, yeah?”  Bucky crooned smoothly, fingers curling over Steve’s hand to pick it up and brush his mouth against the back of the other man’s knuckles.  Rogers smiled faintly, keeping his eyes on Bucky until he turned around to head for the restrooms.

Bucky pushed into a stall with a bang and put his back against it.  His hands were shaking as he fished his phone out of his pocket and nearly fumbled it right into the toilet bowl.  Closing his eyes, he took a few steadying breaths before dialling Darcy’s number.  He knew his best girl was trying to settling her bones about how flighty Bucky had been the last few days, but he needed to talk to her.

“ _This better be good, Barnes.  You’re making me wait to get this Dole Whip thingy into my facehole,_ ” Darcy’s voice filtered into her ear, as well as the low din of the park in the background.  

“Darcy… Darce, I’m onna date with Cap,”

“ _Aw, see? I told you he was hittin’ on you._ ”

“Yeah yeah, I know.  Anyway, we’re havin’ a real good time, but now there’s a girl flirtin’ with him, and I just panicked ‘cause I wanted to fuck him right then an’ there like I was stakin’ my claim,” Bucky hissed into his phone, bringing his tattooed hand up to rub hard across at his brow.  Darcy was quiet for a minute before she began to laugh once it all registered.

“ _Dude.  Seriously?  You called me ‘cause you got a little jealous?_ ”  Darcy inquired through her laughter.  Bucky groaned and bumped his head back against the door.

“It’s more than that, Darce.  Aside from contemplatin’ murder, we’ve been together for hours an’ it feels like we’ve just started.  But I feel like… I’ve known him my whole damned life.  He’s here for the rest of the year, but, fuck, I don’t even think that  _matters_ , ‘cause I still wanna do…  _whatever_ this is…” Bucky sighed, feeling a little bit of warmth stirring in his chest.  His hand rubbed over it lightly, either to stop it or help it grow, he wasn’t quite sure.  “And our parents named us both after comic book characters, so there’s that…”  Darcy was quiet again.

“Darce?”

“ _Sorry, I’m here.  I just… have you ever heard of a_ Beshert _, Bucky?  It’s the Jewish word for what basically equates to a soul mate?  Pretty much all you just said is all part-and-parcel to what a_ Beshert _is,_ ” Darcy explained, and Bucky felt a small smile pull at his mouth.  It should have been something that freaked him out, made him want to run away and do what was easier, but he didn’t.  He wanted to stick around, develop whatever this warm feeling in his chest was into what it could be.

“Yeah?”  He found himself asking, feeling almost breathless.

“ _Yeah, jerk.  I think you just found your person. You **clicked**  or whatever,_” Darcy said, the smile evident in her voice.  “ _So, stop hiding in the bathroom and go get some!_ ”

“How did you know I was hidin’ in the bathroom?”  Bucky asked through his laughter.

“ _Because you’re my best friend and I know you._ ”

“Right, of course.  Thanks, Darce.  I… don’t know if I’ll be back in the hotel t’night, but I’ll have m’phone on.  Meet for lunch?”

“ _Sure, sure.  I’ll text you details, and you’re buying, by the way.  Now, shut up so I can eat my ice cream_ ,” Darcy said fondly, hanging up before he could get another word in edgewise.  Shaking his head, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket and pulled open the stall door.  His heart bottomed out in his stomach at the playful smirk resting on Steve’s face from where he was standing against the sink, strong arms folded across his chest and an eyebrow raised.

“’Don’t know if you’ll be back t’night’, huh?”  Steve asked, his normal speaking voice pitched a few steps lower as he let his eyes wander lecherously over Bucky.  Bucky, for his part, managed to clear his throat in reply, but the blush gave him away.

“Well… I…” Bucky grinned weakly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “… didn’t wanna rule anythin’ out?  An’ what the hell, Cap?  Can’t a fella get any privacy?”  He said, mocking-offense.  Inside, he was dying.  Just  _how much_  of his one-sided conversation with Darcy had he heard?  Steve pushed off the sink and sauntered closer.

“Y’were gone for a bit.  Thought maybe you’d fallen an’ cracked your head open,” Steve teased as his fingers moved up to curl against Bucky’s hip.  The soft pull had the brunette stumbling into his grasp, his breath hitching up into his throat.

“Y’know, I ain’t much for dancin’… got two left feet,” Steve began, his eyebrow rising as he looked down to the other man.  He indicated the night club with a bob of his head, where the music was starting to swell over a din of people coming in.  “You wanna get outta here?”

~ =★= ~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was rough to write, particularly the first section. I’m going to put it on a brief hiatus while I work on my Christmas fics, which will be posted on AO3. :) If you don't want to subscribe to my account, please feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://meshla-aphrodisia.tumblr.com/) to get direct links to the fics!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a long-process present that I agreed to write for carpebucky over on Tumblr. Sorry it took so long, gorgeous, but depression's a bitch!
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr at [meshla-aphrodisia](http://meshla-aphrodisia.tumblr.com/).


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